


precious and perfect

by clarakent (niewanyin)



Series: Omega Tim Week 2019 [6]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alpha Bruce Wayne, Alpha Dick Grayson, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bruce Wayne Is a Grandparent, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Gen, Omega Tim Drake, Past Mpreg, Past Rape/Non-con, Tim Drake Is a Parent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:14:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21798172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niewanyin/pseuds/clarakent
Summary: His granddaughter is the tiniest thing that Bruce has ever held.
Relationships: Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne
Series: Omega Tim Week 2019 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1549573
Comments: 14
Kudos: 475
Collections: Gen Batfam ABO, Tim Drake





	precious and perfect

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to Myosotis and Rider_of_Spades.
> 
> Written for **Nesting** for Omega Tim Drake Week.

His granddaughter is the tiniest thing that Bruce has ever held. He can hold her easily in the crook of one arm. His hand, when he places it gently on her back, overwhelms her body. When he arranges her so she can breathe in his scent, her soft breath is so gentle and light on his skin.

Not only is she the tiniest thing he’s ever held, she’s the most precious, beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

Tim is sleeping in the hospital bed next to Bruce, letting his body heal after seventeen hours of labor. His hair is falling onto his face, the same face that screws up with pain occasionally as he shifts and hurts his lower half.

Bruce is the only one still awake in this hospital room. His granddaughter, Astrid (a name that he never used to have an opinion on, but is now the most beautiful name in the world to him) is sleeping in his arms. Dick is on the couch, one arm wrapped around Jason and the other wrapped around Damian keeping them close, all three of them sound asleep.

He’s surprised to feel a warm flutter in his chest, and even more surprised when he can name it.

It’s happiness.

*

For all that Bruce loves Astrid sleeping in his arms, he can’t deny that the most natural place for her is in Tim’s. She’s only two days old and she already has a favorite person in the world, her eyes getting a little wider and a little more alert whenever they lock onto Tim’s face.

His son is sitting in a wheelchair, biting his lip to keep from laughing as Bruce attempts to wrangle a carseat. He’s the goddamn Batman, he can figure out a _carseat_.

His other children aren’t even trying to keep their laughter inside. Even _Alfred’s_ letting a few chuckles escape him.

Finally he manages to get this stupid thing into the car and buckled in, testing it a few times to make sure that it's steady and won't tear away during the drive home. And then Dick does. And then Jason. And then Damian. And then _Alfred_ has to check it out before they all feel confident that Bruce hadn't screwed something up.

The car ride back to the Manor doesn't take long, and the entire time Bruce watches Tim and Astrid. He's sitting right next to them in the backseat, smiling whenever he sees Astrid try to grab him with her little flying hands. They're curled up into little fists and they're so uncoordinated that it's adorable. Tim's just looking at her with the biggest smile on his face, and Bruce's heart swells with the fact that something in their lives had all gone right to be in this car tonight with their family.

Alfred is driving them home, Dick in the passenger seat, with Jason and Damian behind them in the backseat. Jason is staring at the window, and Damian is creeping up behind them to look at Astrid in her carseat, eyes wide as he watches her just as intently as Bruce is.

"Timothy," and it doesn't escape Bruce's notice that Damian has been calling Tim 'Timothy' instead of 'Drake' ever since Tim announced his pregnancy. "I have come to the conclusion that she looks remarkably like you, and your physical attractiveness has been one of your great assets. Congratulations."

Putting it through the Damian filter in his mind, Bruce gets the message, "Tim, she looks just like you!"

Tim's smile widens a little bit. "Thanks, Damian."

"I don't see the father at all in her features," he adds, and everyone else in the car tenses. The father's identity has been something that Tim has been very adamant that he wants no part of in Astrid's life. He had a one-night stand and he got pregnant. That's the only thing he wants to talk about when it concerns how his daughter came into being. Bruce is looking into the matter for himself, at the very least to know genetic information because he wants to make sure that his granddaughter is healthy as can be. "She really looks just like you."

"Good," Tim says shortly. "That's all I want."

Bruce's eyes meet Dick's in the rear-view mirror. Something felt off about Tim's pregnancy ever since the very beginning, when Tim had come to Bruce asking if he could move back in right after he told him he was having a baby.

It never would have crossed Bruce's mind to reject his son as he stood in front of him, shaking slightly as he looked Bruce dead in the eye. 

_"I'm having this baby," Tim says, his voice strong and steady even though Bruce can read eight different tells that reveal how stressed and scared Tim is right now. "And I want you to know that."_

_Bruce nods. "Of course," he whispers, mind flying as he tries to think about everything that needs to be done to prepare for the arrival of his grandchild._

_Grandchild. He's going to be a grandfather. The word scares him and thrills him._

_Tim deflates as soon as he hears Bruce's acceptance, taking a ragged breath. "And . . . can I move back into the Manor?"_

_There is nothing in this world that gives Bruce greater pleasure than saying, "Yes."_

Damian frowns, and opens his mouth to say more, but Jason jerks him back into the seat and gives him a warning glance. Bruce gives him a grateful look, and Jason nods. Tim just continues watching his daughter.

*

Getting back to the Manor and getting Tim settled is strange because both Tim and Astrid, exhausted over the act of giving birth and being born respectively, are asleep within the half hour. Damian goes back to his room, Alfred to the kitchen to make all the food he possibly can for Tim. Jason also disappears to the library to grab books to read to Astrid because Jason is determined to make her a bookworm before she's three months old, and it just leaves Dick and Bruce watching them sleep. Tim's facing Astrid, but curled around a pillow, looking young and exhausted over the birth.

"What do you think really happened?" Dick whispers. "He won't say a word about the father."

Bruce sighs. "I have . . . fears."

Dick looks at him out of the corner of his eye. "You think . . . ?"

He focuses on Tim. "Don't tell me the thought didn't cross your mind."

Dick turns more to look at Bruce. "I thought it was just me. . . . He never wanted to talk about it."

"He didn't with me either, and I pray to God I'm wrong, but irregardless, Dick, this is _Tim_. He either knows who the father is or he has a very good reason for not wanting to know him."

Dick frowns, and sighs in frustration. "Fuck. _Fuck_."

Bruce's sentiments exactly. He thinks back to nine months ago, his mind trying to spot the moment that could confirm or deny his suspicions, but there's nothing that he can think of. Tim was distant and quiet, but he had been for months and he wouldn't start asking for help again until he got pregnant. There was no indication in anything that Bruce could think of that suggested that Tim had been raped or abused.

God, he was a terrible father.

Tim shifts and mumbles in his sleep, and Bruce's heart aches because it hits him, how terribly young his son is. He's only eighteen years old and already a mother, and Bruce has no idea what's going on with the whole father situation.

"I'm running a DNA test," he tells Dick. "And comparing it to all the genetic databases I can access. If it wasn't assault, I'll never mention it to Tim, but if it is and this bastard's free?"

Dick looks back at his brother and niece. "B, you have to talk to Tim about this before you do anything. Just be _honest_."

"Dick. . . ."

"No, fuck your secrets. This is Tim's fucking life, so you want to talk to him about it, then fucking talk to him. Don't presume Daddy knows best."

"I don't-"

"You _do_. He's not just your kid, he has one himself. Give him that respect. This concerns how he wants to raise his kid, and if he thinks it's best that no one knows her father? Then accept the fact you might not get to know." Dick takes one last look at them. "I'm going to talk to Damian. He's too much like you and I want him to know that just because his father thinks this is okay, it really fucking isn't."

He turns on his heel and walks away.

Bruce bites the inside of his cheek and simply returns to focusing on Tim and Astrid.

The very small baby.

He realizes suddenly that she might not know their scents yet. Almost certainly doesn't. While holding her all the time will certainly help, it doesn't make up for the fact that it won't happen as quickly as Bruce would like it to. He unbuttons his shirt, leaving him in only his undershirt, and carefully tucks the shirt into one of the pouches that line the crib. She simply breathes, nice and steady, but it makes Bruce feel better. She'll surely recognize his scent faster like that. Of course, it's not just his scent. She needs to know everyone else's scent as well. She needs to know how many people love her and would die for her.

Dick doesn't think he should do anything about her father without Tim's permission? Very well.

But he's her grandfather, and he'll just have to nest for her.

*

It's simple to find clothes that he can place into the pouches of her crib. Clothes that smell like his family as well, and clothes that Astrid will find comfort in.

First, he uses many, many articles of clothing from Tim.

He takes a pair of Jason's sweatpants. Dick's jacket. Damian's T-shirt. Babs's shirt. Cass's skirt. Alfred's vest.

He takes into account Tim's core friendships. One of the Superboy shirts that multiply like Tribbles. (Bruce does not know how twenty of them alone ended up in the Manor.) Cassie's jeans. Bart's beanie.

And then the Justice League. Clark's tie. Diana's shirt. Barry's sweater-vest. Arthur's pants. J'onn's jacket. Even Hal's shirt.

He wants to make sure that Astrid knows that she is so loved and adored it's almost ridiculous, because she deserves the world and more.

And he had no idea so many clothes had simply been left around the manor.

And then the final touch. His Batman cape, which he knows smells not only of him, but of Gotham, the city that Astrid will grow up in and that Bruce will actively make a better world for her.

He's never had an infant around the Manor, but he's glad that he can now enjoy the tiny human that has just been introduced to the world.

Even when it's three o'clock in the morning, and Bruce is stumbling into Tim's room to grab her and rock her back to sleep because Tim has gotten none this night and is begging for help over the baby monitor. Her little head is tilted back, red-faced as she yells and Bruce stumbles downstairs to grab the milk that Tim had pumped out of the fridge.

She has a voice on her, loud and demanding as all can be.

(She must get it from Damian.)

He slumps down in a kitchen chair and shifts the infant in his arms so that she can drink the milk, calming down as soon as she eats.

"You need to let your mommy sleep," Bruce whispers. "He doesn't get a lot of it already."

Astrid just watches him as she suckles at the bottle. Her eyes are a dark blue, a common enough color in an infant only a week old, but he has the feeling that they're going to stay this color, if only because they match Tim's right now. Damian was right, she really does look like Tim. He can't make out any feature that isn't his in her face. It's just delicate features and soft black hair and chubby cheeks that Bruce just wants to pinch.

(Is he secretly an old lady?)

"Do you not like the nest?" he asks. That could be a possibility, she might find it overwhelming. Perhaps it shouldn't be everyone's scents, just the important members of the Batfamily and Clark's tie. "Or is it that you just find everything a lot?" He shifts her closer to him. "I'll tell you a secret. Sometimes I find everything a lot as well." Her eyes start to close as the warm milk settles into her system. "Don't ever worry about pushing it down. You get overwhelmed; you just come find Grandpa and we'll . . . we'll do whatever we have to do to make it go away."

Astrid is almost back to sleep, but Bruce thinks she gets the message. He grabs a cloth and burps her, afraid like he always is when he has to do this that he'll hurt her. His hand is so big compared to her little body, and he doesn't know how he can do this properly without risking breaking her ribs. But she lets out a tiny burp, and he's patting her back as hard as he feels comfortable with, so he calls it a win.

When he gets back upstairs, he finds that Tim has indeed managed to get to sleep. He opts to take Astrid to the old nursery, settling down in the rocking chair as he makes sure that she'll be warm.

He slowly rocks them both to sleep.

*

"Bruce, give me the baby."

Tim. What's Tim doing here? Shouldn't he be in bed? He's still healing from the labor. Bruce cracks open his eyes to see Tim standing in front of him, his arms open for Astrid. Without even thinking, he hands her back to Tim, who collects her with a relieved sigh. "Jesus, B, you had to come all the way over here?"

The old nursery isn't _that_ far away from Tim's room. It's still in the same wing at least.

Astrid shoves her little face into Tim's neck, who wraps her tightly in his arms. "Was worried sick when I woke up without her next to me."

Bruce feels absolutely terrible now. "Where are the others looking?"

Tim shakes his head. "It's six-thirty in the morning, Bruce. I didn't wake anyone else up until I knew that she wasn't with you."

"It doesn't hurt to walk?"

Tim frowns. "It's uncomfortable, but I'm fine, B. Things are more . . . accommodating for omegas down there. I can walk. I've _been_ walking." His voice drops a few dials of volume as he mutters, "You just won't give me a chance to show you."

Bruce supposes this is true. He had seen Tim downstairs. He just assumed that Dick was carrying him everywhere.

Possibly because that's what Bruce did.

There's a good chance that he might be coddling Tim.

In respect to this realization, he does not carry Tim back to his room even though he desperately wants to because Tim winces a couple of times. He just doesn't want his son to be in pain. Tim does manage to get back to his room without needing Bruce's strong arms, placing her in the crib and smiling as she curls up over the cape. "You've built her a nest."

Bruce shrugs bashfully. "She needs it."

Tim nods, stroking a finger over her cheek. "Yeah, she does." Astrid just smacks her lips in her sleep.

Bruce can't keep it in any longer. "Tim, who's her father?"

He's asked it before, but Tim's answer was always the same: "He doesn't matter."

This time, his shoulders tense, but he doesn't say anything for a moment.

Bruce can wait him out.

And then Tim sighs. "Bruce. . . ."

"It won't change my love for her," he states. "Nothing ever could. But Tim, you have to know that we have questions and we have . . . theories."

Tim straightens up. "It was consensual," he says bluntly. "Is that what you wanted to know?"

Yes. No.

It doesn't feel like a full answer.

"The father?" he chokes out. Tim's hand curls on the crib's side. With a whisper, he rasps out, "A mark. We needed him for a mission. It eventually became clear to me that the only way I could get out with what we needed and him none the wiser was if he fucked me." He shrugs, like his voice isn't still and emotionless and it's clear that he's struggling over what happened to him. "It didn't hurt that much. He wasn't an awful fuck. Just wanted to tie me up and fuck me, whipped me a couple times 'cause that got him going. Called me a slut and a whore." Tim lets out a dry sob. "Fuck, yeah, this isn't working. Goddamnit, Bruce, I hated every minute of it. Some of the worst pain in my life. He made me feel like shit, like I was nothing more than a body to shove into. He pushed me to tears. He _wanted_ to. And I didn't tell you because . . . because, fuck, I didn't want you to think less of me."

He looks down at his daughter, at her sleeping face, and smiles. "You want to know something? I wasn't planning on telling you I was pregnant. I had an appointment for an abortion the next day. But I was standing in your office, looking at you, and I realized . . . I wanted her. I wanted a family, and I knew I could love her no matter what because of how you loved me. I mean, I still cursed myself when I left the office, afraid that I would change my mind and realize that I didn't want to keep her, but that moment never came."

Tim takes a deep breath. "I should have told you, Bruce, I know I should have, but I just. . . . I just couldn't force it out. And then as time went on, it seemed to matter less and less, even when my ankles and back were killing me and I was starting to lactate and I could only sleep on my back. My body was in pure hell, but even then it seemed worth it. Her. Not . . . the event."

He continues looking at her. "It wasn't consensual, was it?"

Bruce lets out a ragged sigh, tears in his eyes over what his son felt he had to go through. "No, Tim. It wasn't."

Tim bites his lip and nods. "Great," he whispers. "So I was raped and I didn't even know it."

"Yeah," Bruce responds. "You were raped and your mind healed from it the only way you knew how. It protected you until you got to this moment when you _could_ heal."

"It's so fucked up," Tim sobs, his shoulders starting to shake. "I would do anything for it to have not happened to me, but if it hadn't happened, I wouldn't have her. And I don't know if I would change anything if I went back in time. I don't think I would, Bruce, and God, how screwed up does that make me?"

Bruce pulls his son into his arms, needing to feel Tim's weight. "It makes you human, Tim. And I don't know what I would do either."

He would do anything to prevent his son from being hurt. He spent all night holding an infant girl who was the product of the worst pain that Tim had ever gone through. He couldn't do anything that could ever hurt his granddaughter, and he thinks that if it required his son to be hurt? He thinks, as terribly as it makes him feel that he could do it.

Tim just wraps his arms around Bruce's chest and lets himself cry it all out, and Bruce starts to pull Tim down onto the bed to hold him close in his arms. "Wait, let me-" Tim forces out, tearing himself away to pick Astrid up as he swaddles her in the cape, nodding so Bruce knows he can arrange himself with Tim on top of him, holding his daughter close.

They stay like that for hours.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm salazarastark on tumblr as well, so follow me [here](https://salazarastark.tumblr.com/)! I'm not as active as I'd like to be, but I'm always up for talking about my fics or anything else!


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